


nine tenths

by somehowunbroken



Category: DCU
Genre: AU, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim isn't surprised when he's attacked by Jason Todd shortly after Jason's return from the dead. What does surprise him is that Jason doesn't seem to want to hurt him. Instead, Jason seems almost single-mindedly obsessed with keeping Tim safe, and Tim is determined to get to the bottom of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nine tenths

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [nine tenths/十分之九](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547483) by [lengyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lengyu/pseuds/lengyu)



> This is one of the very first stories I ever started in the DC fandom. It's been languishing on my hard drive for nearly three years, and I decided that I was going to finish it for DCU Bang 2014. I'm very proud of the fact that I've finally gotten it finished.
> 
> Thanks to ariadne83 for beta duties!
> 
> I was lucky enough to get two artists for this story. Check out the incredible art by [onyx_stars](http://onyx-stars.tumblr.com/post/101409437155/art-for-the-story-nine-tenths-another-story) and by [timsdildo](http://nottimapproved.tumblr.com/post/101466953523/title-nine-tenths-author)!

"Mine," Jason says, like the word is a hard-won victory, harsh and sharp and bitter but somehow still triumphant.

"Screw you," Tim spits back, yanking and twisting and doing his best to escape. Jason just laughs and grabs at the front of the Robin suit, and when he pulls, it tears neatly along the cuts he’d made.

Jason stares at the shreds of the tunic in his hands for a moment before looking back up to Tim. He takes something out of his pocket and sticks it into Tim’s leg, pulling it back again almost immediately. Pressure-release syringe, Tim thinks, trying not to panic as the world starts to tilt and fade. This can’t be good.

"Sleep, kid," Jason says, and Tim doesn’t hear anything else after that.

-0-

Tim wakes wearing a shirt that’s not his own in a bed that also isn’t his own. The only thing that he recognizes is the feel of cuffs around his wrists.

"You can’t get out of them," Jason says serenely from the doorway, and when Tim looks up, he’s struck by the sudden urge to laugh. Jason is wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a Gotham tourist tee, one with a stylized version of Robin’s crest over its heart, and he’s holding a mug of something. Tim sniffs carefully and identifies the scent of his favorite spice tea.

"What are you doing?" he asks warily. The thing about psychopaths is that there’s always the chance that you can deal with them on a rational level, if the mood and the weather and the alignment of the stars are correct.

"Making you tea," Jason replies, and clearly this isn’t one of those times.

"Can’t drink it if I’m tied to the bed," Tim tries, and Jason smiles like he means it and sits down and tilts the cup to Tim’s mouth.

-0-

"Mine," Jason explains when Tim asks again, which isn’t an explanation at all.

"No, okay, you got the suit," Tim says, "so why am I still here?"

Jason shakes his head and smiles and leaves the room again.

-0-

"You can’t get out of the apartment," Jason says as he unlocks Tim’s left hand. "You’ll get hurt if you try."

"You don’t really think that’s going to stop me, do you?" Tim asks, supremely unimpressed. Jason shrugs a shoulder and moves for Tim’s right wrist.

"Don’t say I didn’t warn you," Jason says, easily avoiding the punch that Tim aims for his face as soon as the second cuff falls away. He takes a few steps back and doesn’t reach out as Tim flies past him into the main room of the apartment.

Tim is good at escaping impossible situations; he’s Robin, so it’s pretty much part of the job description. The problem is that Jason was also Robin, and he's clearly had more training since then, so what he doesn’t know about Tim’s skill set is pretty small. The wiring around the windows is too obvious to be the real threat; the wiring beneath the windowpane has more promise, but that probably isn’t it, either. As Jason seems content enough to let Tim poke around and try to get out without threatening him, Tim takes the time to be cautious.

Jason starts when Tim selects what he’s pretty sure are the proper wires and cuts them, and he stands and heads for Tim when Tim scrambles to his feet and throws the window open. There’s no shock as he grabs the pane and throws himself onto the fire escape, and it’s only when he’s too far out the window to stop his movement that he notices the thin braid of copper attached to the metal landing.

-0-

"I told you," Jason says quietly when Tim opens his eyes. His feet hurt, but he supposes that’s what an electric jolt severe enough to knock you out will do when you touch it barefoot. He wiggles his toes experimentally, and he’s not sure if he’s surprised or not to find that his feet have been carefully bandaged.

Tim leans up to draw the blankets back and check, but the damn cuff is back around his wrist. He glares at Jason. "Again?"

"I didn’t want you to try to walk," Jason replies, tugging on the cord attached to the cuff. "It’s going to hurt enough while it heals as it is."

"What game are you playing here?" Tim asks, annoyed. He’s pretty sure Jason hasn’t sent any sort of ransom demand, and it’s not like he’s trying to get information out of Tim.

Jason shrugs and leans in to tap at Tim’s chest lightly. "Mine," he says for the third time, which is when the penny finally drops.

"Oh, I don’t think so," he snarls. "No, Jason, I am not yours, not in any way, shape, or form. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but – no. Not yours."

Jason shakes his head and smiles like Tim’s a kid throwing a fit. "Of course you are," he says simply, and, "Get some rest, birdie. Dinner’s in a few hours, and there’s no way you slept off the last of the shock."

-0-

Jason shows up after a while and uncuffs Tim with a significant eyebrow raise. Tim glowers, mostly for effect, and accepts the help that Jason offers. He’s not going to be able to attempt any sort of escape until his feet heal up a little, and Jason’s recent behavior dictates that he’s not a threat at the moment, so Tim figures letting his estranged brother half-carry him to the dinner table isn’t going to hurt anything in the long run.

"Bruce will find me," Tim says as Jason puts a plate with a surprisingly healthy-looking meal in front of him. He’s not sure why, but his mental image of Jason’s food choices included more fast food cheeseburgers and fewer carrots.

"He won’t," Jason says confidently. "Eat. It’s not poisoned."

"He will," Tim replies. "And thanks, but no thanks. I’m not eating."

Jason rolls his eyes, making a show of cutting a piece of his chicken, chewing, and swallowing. He eats a carrot next and follows it with a sip from his mug of tea. He then reaches over and switches his dishes with Tim’s, repeating the process with the new food.

Well, fine, Tim thinks, reaching for his utensils. "I’m surprised you gave me a knife."

Jason snorts into his mug. "You won’t be able to drag your ass to the bathroom by yourself for a few days without crawling, and good luck getting shoes on in the next week," he points out. "It would be pretty stupid of you to shank the guy who’s going to be helping you out on that front."

"I’ll manage," Tim says stubbornly.

"I’ll help," Jason replies, and Tim takes a bite of chicken to avoid having to reply.

-0-

"I can give you a painkiller," Jason says when Tim’s breathing subsides into some semblance of normal. He’d refused Jason’s offer of help after dinner, and now he’s paying the price, half-hunched over the back of the sofa and gritting his teeth against the pain of walking on feet so badly burned. "In fact, I might even make you take one. You’re looking pretty green there, baby bird."

"I’m fine," Tim chokes out, focusing on the grain of the fabric below his fingers to distract himself from the pain. It takes a few minutes for him to notice the state of the sofa, but he thinks he can probably be excused that, given the state of his feet. "Why are there sheets – how long have I been here?"

"Three days," Jason says, coming over to stand next to Tim. He slips an arm around Tim’s waist and half-lifts him off his feet; the relief is instant and intense. "You’ve been mostly out of it."

"That’s because you drugged me," Tim points out. "What, you put me in your bed and took the couch? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still a little freaked out with you pulling the older brother thing at all when I was pretty sure you were going to try to gut me, and I’m gonna get to the bottom of this ownership issue you’ve got if it’s the last thing I do, but – what the hell, Jason?"

Jason’s face hardens, and for a split-second Tim thinks he’s going to be dropped back onto his feet, that Jason’s going to go for one of the weapons that Tim has spotted stashed around the room, or maybe one of the ones that Tim hasn’t found yet. None of that happens, though, and after a still, silent moment, Tim realizes that the angry tilt of Jason’s face is directed out the window, not down at him.

"He didn’t fix anything," Jason says, "and someone had to. Someone had to, so I did." He glares at the window for a little longer, and Tim doesn’t know what makes the switch flip, but suddenly the look is evaporating off of Jason’s face and Jason is grinning down at him. "You need to sit down, kid."

"Yeah," Tim says faintly, trying to process and assimilate all at once, "yeah, I think I do."

-0-

By the time Tim’s feet heal, he’s figured out several things about his current circumstances.

One: Jason seriously, honestly seems not to want to hurt him. He doesn’t get angry all that often, and when he does, it’s not directed at Tim. Tim had sort of been expecting Jason’s irrational behavior to extend to him; after all, he’d become Robin after Jason, and Jason’s not at all stable. So far, though, Tim’s not seeing any evidence that Jason wants to do anything to him, aside from the original drug-and-abduct move.

Two: Jason has some serious issues. Tim’s got the outline sketched out in his head, and he can fill in most of the details on his own; he’d assumed that Jason had come back crazy, maybe due to the Lazarus Pit and maybe not, but he’s managed to trace most of the behaviors he’s observed to specific causes. For instance, he’s certainly got reason enough to hate the Joker, and he’s never more emotional than when Tim mentions what happened in Ethiopia. He’s also got a lot of issues surrounding Bruce, though Tim hasn’t cracked those as thoroughly. He’s not quite willing to venture a guess there.

Three: he doesn’t seem inclined to let Tim go any time soon. Jason is mostly unresponsive when Tim asks about going back to his dad, and he doesn’t react at all to mentions of Bruce, except to repeat that Bruce won’t find them. Tim is pretty sure that Jason is right about Bruce not being able find out where they are; if he’d been able to figure it out, he’d have swept in by now. To be fair, _Tim_ isn’t sure where they are, and he’s there. He doesn’t recognize anything when he looks out the window. Jason has stopped cuffing Tim to the bed, though, which Tim is taking as some sort of token of faith.

Four: Tim has no idea what to do.

-0-

It’s day twelve before Tim settles on a course of action. He and Jason are sitting on the couch, neither of them watching the DVD that Tim had chosen mostly because it’s easily ignored. He waits until Jason seems settled into his usual not-watching stance, which mostly involves staring at the screen for a minute or two before flicking his eyes around the room to check the entrances.

"So," Tim says casually, "where are we?"

Jason does a good job of not stiffening up. "Somewhere safe."

Tim nods and digests the fact, takes into account what he knows empirically and what he knows about Jason. "We’re not in Gotham anymore, are we?"

"No," Jason says. "We’re pretty far away from Gotham, actually."

"So Bruce isn’t going to find us because we’re so far away," Tim continues. "Jason, he’ll track us down eventually. You know that, right? I mean, sure, the tracers in my suit have a limited range, but-"

"There aren’t any tracers," Jason interrupts. "I left your suit in Gotham. Left all my stuff, too. Everything here is new." He flashes a smile at Tim. "I’m crazy, baby bird, not stupid."

"I see," Tim says, thinking fast. "Will you tell me where we are? I mean," he says, gesturing to himself, "I’m better now, and I know you go out patrolling. I can help, but only if I know some things about our location."

"No," Jason says fiercely, suddenly completely focused on Tim. "No, you’re staying here until you understand, Tim."

It’s the first time that Jason has ever said his name, and it’s startling enough that Tim falls silent, staring at Jason.

"You’ll understand," Jason repeats, looking back to the television after a moment. "You will."

-0-

"What happened with Bruce?" Tim asks over lunch the following day. Jason pauses for a split-second, barely enough time to notice. He doesn’t say anything, not that Tim is surprised.

"Jason," he tries, setting his fork down and leaning a little bit across the table. "You said you want me to understand, right? I can’t understand if I don’t know."

Jason looks steadily at Tim for a long moment before taking in a long breath and dropping his eyes to the table. He leans towards Tim the tiniest bit, his shoulders hunching defensively. "He doesn’t," Jason starts quietly, then stops, frowns. "He did, he used to, but – he doesn’t care, Tim. He wants someone to fly with him, but when you start to fall, he lets you drop."

"Jason," Tim says after a full minute of silence. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but the crackling hurt in Jason’s voice certainly isn’t it. "Jay, he-"

Jason shudders, a whole-body movement that makes Tim stop mid-thought. "Nobody has called me that in a long time," Jason says, and when he looks up to meet Tim’s eyes again, there’s so much flashing across his face that Tim has to take in a shaky breath before he replies.

"Jay," Tim repeats, slowly reaching a hand across the table. He lets it rest near Jason’s elbow, palm towards the ceiling. He’s not sure what he’s trying to do, nor what he’s supposed to say to that. "Jay."

Jason lets out a ragged-sounding breath and covers Tim’s hand with his own, curling his fingers around Tim’s and holding on firmly. He doesn’t say another word.

-0-

"You’re not going out as Gaheris Hood," Tim observes later on. Jason never leaves the apartment in whatever identity he’s using, and by the time he comes back, the only thing that Tim can spot is the adhesive around his eyes from the domino he must be sporting and whatever assortment of injuries Jason had picked up overnight. He can’t be using his old identity, though, or Bruce would have tracked the reports down and burst in by now.

"No," Jason agrees. "I told you, I left all of that in Gotham."

"Can I get a hint?" Tim asks, smiling a little. "I mean, it’s not like I read the newspaper here in wherever-we-are, but if something were to happen and you got hurt…" He trails off, glancing away when Jason refuses to break their gaze.

Jason lets out a quiet sigh. "I’ve been going by Agravain."

"Agravain," Tim repeats, nodding his head. He doesn’t ask anything else, but Jason shrugs and looks away.

"I always liked literature," he says. "Figured the reference would go over a lot of heads, but it fit just a little too well. One of Arthur's lesser-known knights. Good in a fight, but kind of an asshole." His lips twitch a little. "Plus, I know I can be _aggravating_."

Tim rolls his eyes as Jason leaves, heading out for the night. When Jason returns the next morning, just before dawn, he brings a newspaper with him.

-0-

Houston. They’re in Houston.

-0-

As near as he can tell, Tim has been in Houston with Jason for three and a half weeks. His feet have healed, and he’s reasonably sure that he can get out of the apartment without injury, especially if he can manage to snatch Jason’s spare boots before attempting anything.

Tim stays, though. There’s a part of him that never could resist a problem to solve, and there’s absolutely no denying that Jason is exactly Tim’s sort of problem: contradictory and difficult to solve.

-0-

"I want to talk to you," Tim says point-blank, because he’s figured out that Jason responds best to direct communication. Tim can’t imagine how he’d managed to live with Bruce.

"Sure thing, Timmy," Jason drawls, sprawling across most of the couch. His hand stops just short of Tim’s shoulder. "What’s on your mind?"

"I want to help," he says simply. Jason freezes without actually moving at all, and Tim looks at him placidly. "Look, you could use some backup out there. We both know that I’m still here because I choose to be, not because you’re keeping me here. I’m not going to run off if you let me out at night to run in your shadow."

Jason tips his head back against the couch. "You’ll get hurt."

"I’m pretty good at avoiding that," Tim counters. "Besides, if I do, you can patch me up."

"You don’t do things the way I do," Jason tries, but Tim shakes his head.

"You haven’t been killing people since we got here," he replies. "I’ve been checking the papers you bring. There’s no report of an increase in homicides, and the number of other violent crimes has dropped over the past three weeks." Tim shrugs. "Excepting, of course, the number of people turning up with half the life kicked out of them."

Jason doesn’t say anything, and Tim turns to look at him. "Look, I don’t want to presume," Tim says. "You might have stopped because you weren’t into it any more, or because it’s easy to trace, or because you got what you needed. The fact remains that you need help out there, and I’d like to provide that help."

There’s a moment of silence before Jason nods slowly. "I have something to show you," he says, standing and heading into the bedroom.

-0-

"It’s a little dark," is the only thing that Tim can think to say.

The suit that Jason had pulled out of the back of the closet is beautiful. The tunic is so deep a red that it will be nearly invisible in the night, with dark gold accents on the shoulders and wrists. The hooded cape that Jason sets beside the tunic is black, lined with the same dark gold, and the pants, gauntlets, and boots are black as well. The last item that Jason pulls out of the closet is a belt that matches the inside of the cape.

"You’ll be less visible in this," Jason says, shrugging. "The old one – it made you a target." There’s a hard edge to Jason’s voice as he trails his fingers down the side of the suit. "This one is better."

Tim can’t deny it. It’s definitely sleeker than his old suit, and the fabric is a lot lighter, too. He can see the armoring built into the suit with no problem. He tries not to pay extra attention to the thick plating over the chest and definitely doesn't start thinking about how Jason's autopsy report had detailed how his ribs had been broken and his lungs had collapsed.

There’s a lot of information being presented here, in the suit and in the words and in the way that Jason had laid everything out so carefully. Tim blinks down at the fabric, going for a stalling tactic. "What does Agravain wear?"

Jason tilts his head down at the suit. "It’s similar," he says. "Blue instead of red, green instead of gold. And I ditched the cape."

"No mask?" Tim asks.

Jason just grins and flips something at him. Tim catches the black domino by reflex, and he can’t help returning the grin. He fingers the domino, looking down at the suit, trying to figure out what his next step should be, what he should do or say. He glances up after a minute. "You want me to be your Robin."

Jason doesn’t blink. "Of a sort."

Tim nods and looks back down at his domino. "I can work with that."

-0-

The suit fits perfectly, not that Tim is surprised. He turns, adjusting the gauntlets as Jason walks back into the room. He’s got something in his hands, but the only light in the room is coming from the hallway behind Jason, so Tim can’t tell what it is.

"So I was thinking about what identity to use," Tim says instead of asking. "What do you think about Gaheris?"

Jason wasn’t really moving, but he goes absolutely still at Tim’s words. "You want to link your identity that closely to mine?"

"You said you wanted me to be your partner," Tim says evenly. "I assumed you meant it."

Jason doesn’t say anything for long enough that Tim starts to wonder if he’d maybe tripped backwards across one of Jason’s issues, but just before Tim opens his mouth to apologize, Jason nods. "If that’s what you want."

"Only as long as it doesn’t bother you," Tim answers. Jason snorts and shakes whatever it is that he’s carrying. It makes a soft clicking noise that Tim would know in his sleep, and he’s already holding out his hand when Jason tosses it to him.

"It’s not exactly the one you had in Gotham, but you should still be able to kick some ass with it," Jason says as Tim twirls the staff in his hands. Jason’s right; it’s longer than his staff in Gotham had been, but then he’s a little taller now than he’d been when he’d gotten his first one. It’s heavier, too, and Tim isn’t sure if that’s a function of it being larger overall, or if there’s something else that’s different about it.

"Thank you," Tim says, and he’s not perhaps as surprised as he could be to find that he means it. "I’d like to train with it a little before I use it on the street."

Jason nods and jerks his head at the hallway. "Allow me to show you the rest of the building."

-0-

Jason has a gym.

More specifically, Jason has a _Cave_ , but Tim's smart enough to not mention the similarities. There's a full set of workout equipment, mats, an area stocked with weapons, and a computer system that probably isn't as good as the one that Tim's used to, but is just as probably leagues ahead of a normal PC. Jason is clearly set up to work in Houston for the long haul, and it's just as clear to Tim that he's been planning this for a while.

"Nice," he says, holding the rest back for now. "Do you own the building?"

"Yeah."

"Should I ask?" Tim says dryly, not expecting a response, but Jason shrugs.

"You know how I came back," he says, and Tim nods. "Talia's helped me with a lot of stuff. She set me up with… a lot of funding. For whatever I needed." He shrugs again. "I needed a building."

"You needed a building," Tim repeats. "So Talia bought you one."

Jason frowns. "No, I bought it. She gave me the money and told me to use it on whatever I needed."

"Okay," Tim says, nodding. "Why did you need a building?"

"Where else was I going to take you?" Jason asks, shaking his head like the answer is obvious. "Talia told me you were the smart one. Bruce's equal. I'm starting to think she was misinformed."

"I'm good at putting clues together," Tim shoots back. "I can't put together what I don't have."

"Okay, here's some clues," Jason says, narrowing his eyes at Tim. "I come back from the dead, causes still unknown, and get dunked in a Lazarus Pit. I came out kinda nuts, trained with a whole bunch of people whose moral codes make them the human equivalent of garbage, and had plans that would have essentially made me their equals. With me so far?"

Some of that is news, some isn't. Tim just nods.

"And then, okay, then Talia takes me aside and gives me this packet of information about what Bruce has been up to since I died," Jason says, voice quieter but no less intense. "I open it up, not really sure what I'm supposed to be expecting, and out falls a bunch of surveillance photos of a kid in a Robin costume."

"Jay-"

"Not done," Jason says. "I think – I don't know why, I don't have any idea why, not really, but I think she wanted to get me mad. Maybe she thought it'd distract me from my plans, maybe she thought it'd make me leave Gotham alone. I really can't even pretend I understand her reasoning. But whatever it was, she'd handed be photos of you and as much information as she'd been able to scrape up. About you, about you as Robin, about your family and your background and the silly little details that you never think are important." Jason snorts. "I know what freaky toppings you like on your pizza, Tim, that's how much I know about you."

Tim swallows. "Where'd she even get information like that?"

"I've learned that with the League, it's really better if you don't ask questions," Jason replies. "Best case scenario, you get ignored. Worst case, you get the answer you're looking for, and you can never un-know it."

"That's comforting."

"That's the League," Jason says, no sympathy in his voice. "They're not exactly known for not scarring people for life, and not all scars are the ones we're used to."

Tim nods. "I've deal with Ra's al Ghul before. He's…"

"A menace," Jason supplies when Tim doesn't go on. "He's a goddamned menace, and he's crazy as they come, but he's not even close to the most dangerous thing out there." Jason laughs, and it sounds awful. "Trust me, baby bird, I've seen a lot worse than him in the past couple of years."

"You can tell me," Tim says, barely hesitating at all. "I'd listen."

"Why?" Jason asks, and Tim really doesn't have an answer for him. His instinct is _all information is important information_ , but that's not it; Jason isn't an operation, for all that Bruce would disagree. He's a little surprised by the thought, but he doesn't want to know so he can use it against Jason in the future. He just… wants to know.

Finally, Tim shrugs. "I'm a curious guy," he says. "And I think you could probably use someone to talk to."

"You're not wrong," Jason mutters, blowing out a breath. "I'll… think about it. I'm sure you know why I'm not just ready to bare my soul to you and won't take my hesitation personally."

"You don't want to tell the guy you kidnapped all of your deep, dark secrets?" Tim says, feigning shock. He puts a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded, Jason. Deeply hurt."

Jason finally cracks a grin. "Y'know, for someone Talia thought I'd hate on sight, you're pretty funny." Tim bows, hand still on his chest, and Jason snorts. "Come on. Let's see how the new gear holds up in a spar."

-0-

As it turns out, the gear holds up really well. The problem is that the balance is different enough from Tim's Robin suit that it throws him off in places he's not expecting.

"My cape was weighted differently," Tim says the third time he gets wrapped up in it on a flip he's used to executing with ease. "It's going to take some time to get used to."

"Take all the time you need," Jason says. "There's nothing huge on the radar yet. I'm still cultivating contacts, getting to know the lay of the land. There'll be stuff, but there isn't yet."

"I'd rather be out there with you," Tim says, frowning at his cape. "I can't watch your back from in here."

Jason shrugs. "Yes and no."

Tim waits, but Jason doesn't elaborate. After a moment, he rolls his eyes. "Care to explain?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Jason says, smirking a little. Tim's getting used to his annoying sense of humor. "C'mere."

Jason walks to the computer system and pulls up a few programs. He then reaches for a box under the console and rummages around in it for a minute before pulling something out and setting it on the desk. Tim is less surprised than he feels he should be when he realizes that it's a tracking and communications setup.

"This'll let you get in touch with me," Jason says, tapping the desk next to the comm. "It's two-way, and secure. Not as secure as the ones you're used to, and the range isn't as good, but it'll do for the two of us." He nods at the computer. "That's… well, I patched together a few different things. If you're half the computer geek Talia thinks you are, you'll be horrified by it." Jason grins.

"That's comforting," Tim mutters as he sits down and starts looking at the programs.

"Feel free to screw around with it," Jason says. "The tracker will tell you where I am, and I've got a line into the Houston Police computers, but that's about it. I know you're used to having all of your information talking to all of your programs, but…" He shrugs. "I can figure out a lot of stuff, but computers take too long. It does what I need it to, but I'm sure you can get it working better."

"Probably," Tim says. He's already thinking of ways to better hack the police database, and he's going to see what he can do about integrating it into Jason's case data. At the very least, he can improve the security on the system.

"You have fun with that," Jason says, amused. "I've got turkey burgers and broccoli for dinner. You want me to call you when I've got it ready, or are you gonna remember to come up and eat?

"Sure," Tim says, pulling up a test program and starting to type. He needs to make a list of all of the improvements he needs to make or he'll forget something vital.

Jason snorts. "I'll pry you away in an hour or so," he says. Tim just nods, and barely notices him walking upstairs.

-0-

"I did some basic stuff," Tim says after Jason gets him from the area Tim is trying not to call the Cave in his head. "Some cleanup, so you should notice an increase in speed, and I beefed up the security on your firewall, so if someone in the police department notices the line you have in there, they'll have a hell of a time tracing it back here. It's a stopgap until I can get a cleaner hack in there, but it makes me feel better to know that there's something in place."

"I should have brought you down there weeks ago," Jason says, grinning. "Haven't seen you smile this much in one day yet."

Tim shrugs. "I'm no Oracle, but I'm pretty good at computers."

The smile seems to freeze on Jason's face, and Tim winces internally. He knows by this point that anything Bat-related is a bad idea.

"Oracle," he says heavily. "That's… that's what Babs is going by now, right?"

Tim nods. "She's doing a lot of good," he says.

"How is she?" he asks. It takes Tim a moment to realize that the emotion in Jason's voice is something like fondness, or maybe nostalgia.

"She's good," Tim volunteers. "She's… she's really doing well. She won't let Superman heal her, actually. Says she doesn't want to be singled out, so until the technology is publically available, she doesn't want it."

Jason's smile is small, and it's definitely not for Tim. "That sounds about right, yeah."

"She's doing a lot of coordinating," Tim goes on, encouraged. "She's actually leading her own team now. Black Canary, Lady Blackhawk, a few others. They're called the Birds of Prey."

"I'm glad she got away from _him_ ," Jason says. There's no need to ask who Jason means. "This whole thing took enough out of her. At least she's got a team she can rely on now if she needs them."

"I'm pretty sure she'd kick your ass if she heard you insinuate that she needed saving," Tim says dryly. "She's done it to – other people."

Tim hopes that Jason will let his hesitation go, but he's not that lucky. "Who?"

"Dick," Tim mutters after a moment, bracing internally for Jason's meltdown.

It doesn't come. Jason tilts his head to the side, and Tim figures out that the shaking isn't an oncoming freak-out. No, it's Jason trying not to laugh his ass right out of his chair. Tim grins, and that's apparently the straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back, because Jason throws his head back and laughs long and loud.

"Tell me there's footage," Jason says delightedly, wiping at his eyes. "Tell me you can get a copy of it."

"Not without asking very nicely," Tim says. "There's no way I can get into Oracle's system without her noticing and tracing the line. She's pretty much the hacker's hacker these days."

Jason sighs, but he's still smiling. He shakes his head. "Not yet."

"But in the future?" Tim presses. Jason's in a good mood; Tim is willing to risk it.

"In the future," Jason promises. "When everything's ready."

Tim had suspected that there was a longer game being played here, but this is the first confirmation he's gotten. "Oh?" he asks, going for casual. "What needs to be ready?"

"Nice try," Jason says. "The part where you get to know what needs to be ready isn't ready yet."

Tim waits a beat before frowning. "You phrased it that way to be confusing on purpose, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Jason replies. The grin is back. "Not ready to tell you that yet, either."

Tim groans and picks up his turkey burger. "Are you ready for me to eat my food so I can go back to fixing the computer?"

"It's killing you to not call it my Cave, isn't it?" Jason asks.

"Not ready to tell you that yet," Tim shoots back, taking a bite of his burger.

Jason laughs again and spears some broccoli with his fork. "We'll come up with an equally ridiculous name," he promises. "The Lair."

"The Fortress," Tim suggests.

"Too Super," Jason says, shaking his head. "The Eyrie."

"The Hole in the Ground," Tim says.

Jason snickers. "The Hole? You really want to call our secret hideout The Hole?"

"Okay, not that," Tim agrees, laughing a little. "We could go with something really original and call it The Basement."

"No room for plausible deniability there," Jason says, leaning back in his chair. "We get followed back here after some skel overhears us talking about The Basement, and our whole operation is blown."

"One, it's way more deniable than The Cave," Tim says. "Lots of people have basements. Caves, not so much. And two, if we get followed back here by some random creep and neither of us notices, I'm going to bet that we've got bigger problems than one person figuring us out."

"Point," Jason says, nodding. "It lacks, I don't know, mystery, though."

Tim snorts. "Drama is the word you're looking for there, Jay."

Jason grins, bright and happy, and Tim's chest tightens a little when he realizes that this one is definitely all for him. "I'm a diva," he says, tossing his head and sniffing. "Take me or leave me."

"I can't leave The Basement," Tim protests, grinning back. "I hear you're a package deal, so I guess I'm hanging around."

"He only loves me for my tech," Jason says mournfully to the ceiling. "The romance is gone."

"I'm having an affair with your computer system," Tim says flatly. "All that code."

Jason claps a hand to his chest. "I'm so hurt, Tim. You have wounded me."

"You'll make it," Tim says, standing and clearing his plate. "For now, though, I'm going back to the computer. Things were just getting hot and heavy when you interrupted us before."

Jason snickers as Tim puts his plate in the sink and heads toward the stairs. "You two have fun, and remember: an ounce of protection is worth a pound of cure."

"No glove, no love," Tim singsongs as he heads down the stairs.

It's not until an hour later, when he surfaces for a coding break, that Tim realizes that they were flirting.

Huh, he thinks. That's interesting.

-0-

It takes Tim six days to get a secure, nigh-untraceable line into the Houston Police databanks. Once he does, he starts organizing Jason's files, seeing if he can glean any information on the things Jason is working on. Most of the cases he researches don't come up with anything, but on his third-to-last file, he hits pay dirt.

"Hey," Jason says some time later, when Tim's got both monitors filled with notes and is considering ordering a third for overnight delivery. Tim jumps a little, glad that he's in a chair that spins, because it saves him from wrenching his back when he turns to face Jason.

"Huh?" he says. It's a totally valid response, because Jason's grinning like Tim did something funny.

"You've got," Jason says, pointing to his cheek. "Uh. I don't know, it looks like you leaned on newspaper."

"Oh," Tim mutters. He looks down at the notes he's been writing in his own special brand of shorthand, and sure enough, there's a big smudge across the top, and a matching smudge on the back of his hand. Tim sighs. "Looks like I'll have to rewrite that part."

"I'd ask why you didn't type it up, but I see that you've got other things going on," Jason says, studying the screens. "What's up?"

"The Weisen case," Tim says, putting his notes down and rubbing at his cheek with his sleeve. "I compared what you had to what the police have. I'm pretty sure there's enough between the two files to find him and keep him behind bars."

Jason's whole face lights up. "Yeah? What've you got?"

Tim points to the screen. "Read up," he instructs. "I'm going to go wash my face."

"It's not that bad," Jason says, but as soon as Tim stands, he steals the chair and scoots in to read. Tim rolls his eyes and heads for the bathroom.

He makes a face at his reflection; no matter what Jason claims, yeah, it _is_ that bad. He looks like he fell asleep on a fountain pen. He hasn't had ink stains this bad since the last time he chewed the end off a pen and it exploded in his mouth. At least he's good at getting ink off of his skin.

"I'm going to go upstairs," Tim calls as he walks through the room. Jason hums and nods, not looking away from the screen. He's got Tim's pen in his hand, and he's already filled a new page in the notebook with his notes.

It takes about ten minutes to scrub the worst of the ink out, and how he'd gotten it smeared all the way across his jaw is a mystery for another day. Tim calls it good enough when there's just a shadow of it left and heads back down to the basement.

"Hey," he says when he gets down the stairs, barely holding back a smirk when Jason jumps in the chair. Serves him right for spooking Tim earlier. "So, what do you think?"

Jason surveys him for a moment. "You got most of it," he says finally.

"Yeah, no, I meant about the case," Tim replies, rolling his eyes. "Which dots have you connected, and does your picture match mine?"

"Poetic," Jason says with a snort. "Assuming I read your chicken scratch correctly, then yeah, we agree. He's hiding out in Sharpstown."

"It's a good place to hide," Tim says. "Crime's not bad, but it's not the best place in the city, so he'll be safe from prying eyes of neighbors and cops alike."

"And it's not out in the boonies," Jason adds. "I mean, it's far enough out that it's not downtown, but he's not out of the city."

Tim nods. "So, are you going after him tonight?"

Jason hesitates. "I thought we could spend tonight really making sure we've got all of the details down, and then we could go get him tomorrow."

"We?" Tim asks. He's suddenly nervous; his heart's beating a little faster, just like it had when Bruce had given him the go-ahead to be Robin. He tries to swallow down the comparison, but it's too similar to ignore. "You want me to go with you?"

"If you think you're ready," Jason replies immediately. "I know you were trying to figure out the whole cape thing, so-"

"I'm ready," Tim cuts in. "I'm so ready. You have no idea how ready I am to leave the apartment and kick some ass."

"Good thing Weisen needs a good ass-kicking, then," Jason says, grinning. "You sure you've got the cape managed?"

Tim knows the smile on his face is sharp. "What, do you want a demonstration? Because I'll gladly take you down if that's what you're asking."

"You can try," Jason drawls, spinning the chair so he's facing Tim. "I have to warn you, though-"

Tim leaps forward, toppling the chair and pinning Jason easily. Jason blinks up at him for a few stunned seconds before starting to laugh.

"What was that you were saying?" Tim asks mildly, not giving an inch even though Jason's too busy laughing to fight the pin. "Something about a warning?"

"Yeah," Jason says when he manages to stop laughing. "Yeah, something about a warning."

Tim feels Jason's weight shift and prepares himself for the flip. He manages to roll when they land, which makes Jason try for a throw. Tim lets him get the toss off and grins as he goes sailing towards the mats.

It's going to be a good spar.

-0-

Curtis Weisen is a creep. Tim feels justified in making this determination, given that he's met way more than his fair share of people who meet the creep criteria in his time as Robin. Still, Weisen meets and exceeds the creep factor with ease.

"He's scum," Jason says quietly into the comm. He's on the next roof, hidden in the shadows. "I mean, you know that, but… wow. Scumbag."

"No argument here," Tim replies. He pulls a pair of binoculars from his belt and focuses on Weisen through the window. "Anyone who incites a gang war just to distract the police from his gun-smuggling operation gets a ticket to the special hell, if you ask me."

Jason grunts, which Tim takes as agreement. "You have eyes on him?"

"Fifth floor, third window from the street," Tim says, watching as Weisen putters around the bedroom. "Looks like he's folding his laundry."

"Uh," Jason says. There's a pause before he asks, "Do we… wait?"

"I don't know," Tim replies. Weisen picks up a stack of what appear to be folded undershirts and walks to his dresser, placing the pile in an open drawer. "I mean, on the one hand, he's clearly not expecting us. On the other…"

"Yeah," Jason agrees. "There's something weird about taking a guy down when he's surrounded by his laundry."

"I think we have to go for it," Tim says, lowering the binoculars. "We're not going to get a better chance, and it's not like we actually want to catch him red-handed if we can stop him before he does anything else illegal."

"True," Jason says. There's another pause. "I guess we should just go for it, huh?"

"Yeah," Tim says. He takes a breath. "Come on over here. I think we'll have the best point of entry from this angle."

"On my way," Jason says. A moment later, there's a soft thump from behind Tim, and then Jason is crouching by his side, brushing grit off of his shoulders. "How d'you think we should handle this?"

Tim narrows his eyes, considering. "There's at least an 85% chance that we can pick the roof access door lock," he says after a moment. "Since he's not exactly expecting us to come in through his front door, that might actually be the best approach."

"Weird," Jason breathes, then snorts. "I don't want to say that our hometown has screwed up our expectations or anything, but the evidence kinda speaks for itself in this case."

"You might be right," Tim says, grinning back and checking his grapple gun. "Ready?"

"Let's do this thing," Jason says, shooting his own grapple. They swing across the street, rolling as they land. Tim pulls his lock picks and gets to work, and by the time Jason has retrieved their grapple lines, the door is open.

"After you," Tim says, gesturing into the building with a sweeping bow.

Jason walks past him and flicks his ear. "Dork."

Tim hadn't forgotten this feeling, not really; it's been a while since he's been on the street, though, so the adrenaline in his system is making him almost twitchy in anticipation. By the time he and Jason make their way down to the fifth floor, Tim is more than ready to get the fight started.

They pause outside Weisen's door, and Jason snickers. "Should we _knock_?"

Tim has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "That seems kind of…"

"Childish," Jason supplies. He's still grinning. "I'm doing it." Before Tim can say anything, Jason lifts his hand and pounds on the door.

"Who's there?" Weisen calls from inside. "Marco, man, if that's you, I told you to bring the stuff tomorrow."

"Yeah, uh," Jason calls, disguising his voice a little. "Sorry. Got my days mixed up. You want I should just bring it back tomorrow, or-"

Weisen yanks the door open and blinks at them. It's actually hilarious, but Tim does his best to file away the shocked, confused look on Weisen's face for later so he can jump at the man.

"What the fuck," Weisen screeches, stumbling back just before Tim connects. "You're not Marco!"

"My bad," Jason says as he punches out, connecting solidly with Weisen's shoulder. Weisen spins around, tottering a little before he topples. "Man, Gaheris, did you hear him say Marco? I thought he was asking for Agravain."

"I heard Agravain," Tim agrees, grabbing his staff and flicking it open. He spins it a few times for show before pointing the end at Weisen's knee. "Too bad. This whole thing could've been avoided if we had just heard a little bit better. Oh, no, wait," he says as Weisen opens his mouth again. "You're a terrible human being, so we were coming for you anyway."

"What did I do to you?" Weisen whines. "Did I sleep with your girl or something? Look, if they're on the corner-"

"Oh my God," Jason groans. "Gaheris, hit him, will you?"

Tim slaps his staff against Weisen's knee. It's enough to dislocate the kneecap, but the joint will heal. The way Weisen's shrieking, though, you'd think Tim had taken his leg off.

"Stop, stop," Weisen blabbers, tears streaming down his face. "Whatever you want, just take it. I've got cash, I've got shit you can pawn for a ton-"

"He's really not getting it," Tim says, amused. "Wow. I know there aren't any other vigilantes in Houston, but you'd think that people would at least be familiar with the concept."

"The Justice League is pretty public," Jason agrees. "And, I mean, if you haven't heard of Superman, you must literally live under a rock. That guy is everywhere."

"Or Green Lantern," Tim says. "He's the space cop every space cop movie dreams of creating, except he's real."

"Wonder Woman," Jason goes on. "Incredibly powerful, incredibly fair. Usually grossly sexualized by jerks like you, Weisen."

"Or, hey, Batman," Tim says casually. He keeps his gaze on Weisen as he says it, but he can feel Jason tense a little.

Weisen shivers a little. "Batman isn't real," he says. "He's just some – some myth they made up to make Gotham seem less nuts."

Tim holds his breath for a still, silent moment.

Then Jason cracks up laughing.

"Are you serious right now," he wheezes. "Batman makes Gotham seem _less nuts_?"

Weisen shifts uncomfortably. "He's not real," he insists. "A guy dressed up as a bat? And there's no proof-"

"Look, the only proof we really care about is the proof we have that you belong in jail," Jason says, abruptly serious again. "And boy, do we have a lot of that."

"We really do," Tim says. "You might want to consider better security when you get out of jail. Or, you know, doing things that don't land you right back there."

"You don't have anything," Weisen sneers. He's still on the ground with tears tracking down his face, but he's managing to pull himself together a little. Tim almost gives him credit for that, but the tears start falling faster when Tim pokes at his knee. "You – you don’t. If you did, you'd give it to the cops, and they'd do this all the legal way."

"Oh, gosh," Jason says, widening his eyes behind his domino. "We've gone about this all wrong! I guess we're going to have to leave and do things the _legal way_. What a waste of an evening!"

"Wait, Agravain," Tim says. "I've got a better idea: we cuff him to something, knock him out so he doesn't try to escape, and leave all the evidence we've gotten for the police to find when they come by to pick him up."

Jason snaps his fingers. "That's why I bring you along, Gaheris,' he says, smiling hugely as he digs the thumb drive Tim had loaded up earlier out of his pocket. "You remind me of all the good plans we think up back at HQ."

"I live to serve," Tim says dryly. He looks back at Weisen. "I'm gonna go ahead and tell you to stay still," he advises, retracting his staff. "This will hurt a lot less if you do."

Predictably, Weisen starts trying to drag himself away as soon as the weapon disappears. "Get out, you freaks," he says miserably.

"You don't take advice well," Jason says as he advances on Weisen. He leans over, blocking Tim's view. There's a sharp cracking noise before Jason stands back up. Weisen is lying still on the floor.

"Did you-"

"Relax," Jason says shortly. "He's out like a light, but he'll be fine. Well," he amends, "he'll be in jail and he'll have a hell of a headache, and probably a lot of physical therapy for that knee you hit, but he'll make it."

"Right," Tim says, shifting on his feet. It's not that he doesn't trust Jason by this point; it's just that the last time they'd been near each other in a fight situation prior to this whole thing, Jason hadn't hesitated to kill. "Okay. Let's cuff him and call the cops."

"And then head back home," Jason adds, leaning back over with a zip strip in hand. "We should probably debrief and all that crap."

"All that crap," Tim echoes, shaking his head. "Your attention to detail is astounding."

Jason stands back up and dusts off his hands. "My attention to detail is awesome," he says, waggling his eyebrows. With the domino in place, the expression is a little horrifying, but Tim grins anyway. "Besides, you need to show me what you did to my poor computers sooner or later. Might as well be a practical application."

"Might as well," Tim agrees. He cocks his head as he hears the sound of sirens approaching. "Sounds like someone took care of calling the cops for us."

" _Neighbors_ ," Jason sighs dramatically. "Oh well. Let's get going."

-0-

"No fair," Jason whines, staring at the computer as Tim finishes his explanation. "You made it make sense."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "I'm… sorry?"

"No you aren't," Jason mutters, grabbing the mouse and opening one of the folders Tim had created. "You organized. It's all… neat."

"Woe is you," Tim says, amused. "You get the whole idea and everything? Know where to look for stuff, and how to file a report?"

"Yes, dear," Jason singsongs. He opens the recording program Tim had set up to do voice-to-text and clicks the start button. "Dear computer, Tim is ridiculously efficient and too good at this crap. I don't know what I'm going to do now that everything's got a proper place. Love, Jason." He clicks the stop button and smirks at Tim as the text appears on-screen.

"Computer, voice activation RR-01-1989, delete file," Tim says, raising an eyebrow. The computer beeps twice and the document vanishes, and Jason's eyes go a little wide.

"What did you just-"

Tim cracks up. "That's the advanced course," he wheezes. "You need to master the basics before I teach you the fun stuff."

"You are terrible and I don't know why I keep you around," Jason announces, clicking at something else on the screen. As soon as he moves his hand away from the mouse, alarms start going off, and he scoots his chair back. "I didn't do it!"

"No, you didn't," Tim says, narrowing his eyes as he grabs the mouse. He scans the messages popping up, one after the other, until he finds the one he's looking for.

**Hello, Robin. Though I hear you have a new name to go with your new look.**

"Chair," Tim snaps without looking. A few seconds later, the chair is nudging at the backs of his legs, and Tim sits down. He stares at the blinking cursor for a moment, but before he can say anything, another line of text pops up.

**On a scale from one to ten, how much was I not supposed to notice the new vigilantes in Houston popping up at the same time as a Bat-level security system?**

"Who the fuck," Jason says flatly. He's radiating tension a few inches to Tim's right.

**Language, Hood.**

Tim sighs. "Is he already on his way, or are you just testing the waters?"

"What the _fuck_ ," Jason repeats. He's got one hand curled around the armrest on Tim's chair, and the other is clenched in a fist at his side. "Gaheris, I really need to-"

A green mask appears on the screen, and Tim feels a little guilty for the flash of relief it sends through him. The voice synthesizer is creepier than he remembers it being, though. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Agravain, Oracle has decided to make her presence known," Tim says, sitting back. "Best guess, she's known about us for a week, maybe ten days." He chances a look to his right. "I told you it wasn't Oracle-proof."

"I thought you were working on that," Jason hisses.

The sound of a laugh through the synthesizer is something like forks dragging against aluminum foil. They shudder in unison. "No offense, Robin, but Hood: he didn't have enough time. Another month and he might have had me beat, but I'm one of the best there is." She pauses a beat. "It was good, though. Really."

"Sure, I believe you," Tim mutters. "O, I'm starting to think you’re stalling so he can get closer while we chat. As nice as it's been to talk to you, that's not-"

"Wait," Oracle says. There's a few beeping sounds, and then another screen pops up on the monitor. "Install that. Your privacy settings are fine in-house, but your shielding is terrible over the open lines."

"I wasn't planning on using the open lines," Tim says sulkily, but he opens the installer anyway. It zips through its process, and Oracle's window blinks out and back in. He hesitates a moment before shrugging. "Installed."

There's a click, and then Tim has to bite his tongue to keep from making some sort of embarrassing noise when Babs starts to talk. "Tim. Jason. How's Houston?"

"Babs," Jason chokes before Tim can say anything. "You didn't – please answer the question. Is he coming?"

"I didn't tell him," Babs says. "And no, right now he's in the Cave, poring over the remnants of the Robin suit you left in an alley." There's more than a small amount of disapproval in her voice. "Really, Jason, an alley? You couldn't have left it somewhere a little less likely to make him think that Tim had been killed and dumped in the ocean?"

"Does he honestly think that?" Tim asks, clenching his fist. Bruce's mental state is far more variable than he lets on, and if he honestly thinks that Tim is dead, then he's probably close to his edge. "Babs, please-"

"Dick's been staying at the Manor again," Babs replies. "It's… nobody has any idea what to think, Tim. Bruce is Bruce-ing all over the place, Dick is trying to out-Dick himself in compensation, your father thinks you ran away…"

Tim covers his face with his hands, and he's startled when Jason puts a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," he says gruffly. "Not sorry like I wouldn't do it again, but… sorry."

"Thanks," Tim says, snorting. "That's… great. Really."

"Look, I can't sit on this," Babs says after a moment. "I can give you a head start, but I have to tell Bruce that you're out there, and once he knows, he's going to tear the world apart until he finds you."

"We'll run," Jason says, but he doesn't sound sure. Actually, if Tim's reading him right, he sounds almost afraid. "He won't find us."

"He will, Jay," Babs says. Jason's hand tightens on Tim's shoulder at the nickname. "Like I said, I can wait a few hours at most, but I have to tell him."

"Why haven't you told him already?" Tim asks, looking at Jason. "I mean, I know I'm not wrong about you watching us for a while before tonight. Why hasn't he already Batted his way in?"

Babs sighs. "Because I _have_ been watching. At first I was trying to see what I'd need to tell him, security and layout and whatever else I could get, but it didn't take long to see that you were working together." She pauses. "Working really well together, honestly. Even when you were just doing tech, Tim, the way you coordinated was great. And Jason, I don't think I've ever seen you work with a partner so well, myself included."

"Yeah," Jason says guardedly. "So?"

"So it's been good for both of you," Babs says. "And it wasn't hard to see that Tim wasn't in danger, so I didn't feel the need to alert anyone before I talked to the two of you."

"Oh," Tim says. That makes sense, he supposes, even if it is surprising. "Thanks, then."

"You're welcome," Babs says. "So, here's my offer: I can wait on telling Bruce until he gets back from patrol in the morning. That gives you two some time to make plans, but I'm warning you now, if you bolt I'll help him find you." Her voice softens. "You can both come home, you know. Whatever's going on, I think everyone here is willing to talk it out."

"Thanks, Babs," Tim cuts in before Jason can say anything. "Ping me in three. And please don't listen in on us between now and then."

There's a pause, and then a gusty sigh. "You owe me," she says lightly, and then the Oracle window winks out.

-0-

"I know you don't want to go back," Tim says steadily after Jason has something that could be termed _a freak-out_. "I know it's not on your schedule yet, and I know you've got a lot of Bruce-shaped hangups-"

"Is that what you think is going on?" Jason stops pacing, which is a good sign, and shoves his hand through his hair, which isn't. "You really think – after everything here-"

"Breathe, Jay," Tim says. "Look at me and breathe."

Jason walks towards him and drops, crouching in front of Tim and looking up at him. It's nothing like his normal behavior, but Tim notices the strain in his breathing and the way his hands are twitching. He's sweating, too, and Tim's had enough panic attacks in his life to know what's going on.

"What do you need?" Tim asks quietly.

"I – I don't-"

Tim chances reaching out, slowly and cautiously, and putting a hand on Jason's shoulder. Jason stiffens slightly before bowing his head and letting his shoulders slump.

"Relax," Tim says, trying desperately to remember what helps him, what he's read about. "Take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds, then let it out slowly. C'mon, like this." Tim does as he'd said, inhaling and exhaling with Jason until Jason stops trembling. He looks up a moment later.

"I don't want to go back," Jason says. "I just – you're right; I've got problems with… with Bruce. But it's not safe, it's not safe for Robin in Gotham, and I can't watch you go back and die like I did." As he talks, his voice gets louder, and Tim can see his fingers start twitching again.

Tim squeezes Jason's shoulder. "I'll be okay," he promises. "I've had a lot of training, and I've got a lot of people looking out for me."

Jason laughs harshly and stands back up. "Like who? Not B, that's for damn sure. Dickie's fucked off to Bludhaven, and your dad is-"

"My dad is what?" Tim asks sharply. It's the first time his father has come up in conversation in… well, a long time.

Jason bows his head again. "Sometimes parents – they mean well, or they think they do, but they actually suck. Or they make you think they mean well, but they're really just there for their own good."

"Jay," Tim says, a little helplessly. He's read all of the intel Bruce had on Jason; he recognizes the shape of Sheila Haywood in what Jason's saying, even if Bruce hadn't been able to fill in all of the details.

"My mother sold me out," Jason says heavily. "She just – I thought I was helping her, and we both ended up dying because of it."

Tim feels like the room's closing in a little bit. He goes back to the breathing exercises when Jason goes on.

"Your dad, he's not like my mom was, I know," Jason continues. "He's not – he's just a shit dad. I watched, y'know. He only wants you around when he needs something from you, and the rest of the time it's like you don't exist, or he'd rather you didn't."

Tim flinches. "That isn't true."

"It is," Jason says. "It sucks, I'm sorry, I wish it was me making shit up, but it's true, Tim. You know how much time and energy he's put into looking for you since I brought you down here?"

"No." He's been trying not to think too hard about it, actually.

"He filed a missing persons report with the police the day after you woke up here," Jason says flatly. "Nothing before that, nothing since. That's it."

Tim does his best to keep his breathing steady. It's not actually surprising, and that might hurt more than the actual facts; it proves Jason's point perfectly, and Tim can't deny that he's thought similar things about his dad before.

"For what it's worth, your stepmom seems nice," Jason says after a moment.

"Yeah," Tim mutters. "She's great."

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Jason blows out a breath. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? That all just kinda came spilling out. I shouldn't have said it like that."

"But you meant it."

"Well, yeah," Jason says, frowning a little. "Not to argue it too much, but do you think I'm wrong?"

"No," Tim says shortly. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I guess not," Jason says, and they lapse into silence again.

This time it's Tim who breaks it. "We need to make a choice, and we need to do it soon," he says. "We can't stay here. Do we go back to Gotham, or do we pack up and head elsewhere?"

Jason looks surprised. "I figured you were ditching me for Gotham, no ifs, ands, or buts."

"Then why bring any of that up?" Tim asks, waving his hand. "Why not just run in the other direction while I headed back?"

"Can't blame a guy for trying," Jason says, smiling thinly. "I've been told I don't know when to quit. It's gotten me into trouble a few times."

"And now the gallows humor," Tim says, rolling his eyes. "While I'd prefer going back to Gotham, I'm not going to ditch you without hearing your side of things. I thought you knew me at least that well by now."

Jason sighs and looks away, folding his arms over his chest. "I don't want to deal with Bruce," he says finally. "I just… really don't. Not yet, not soon, maybe not ever. But definitely not yet."

"That's fair."

"But it's not going to happen," Jason says. "The second I set foot in Gotham, the second he knows I'm there? I'll be lucky if he doesn't tie me to a chair in the Cave again."

"You don't have to come," Tim says quietly. "I'll misdirect him, if that's what you want."

Jason snorts. "He'd know."

"He wouldn't," Tim shoots back. "It's not impossible to lie to him. You create some fake tells, tell him some fake lies…"

"Wait, are you telling me you lie to _Batman_?" Jason asks, eyes going a little wide. "Habitually? _Successfully_?"

"And nobody ever believes me when I tell them," Tim replies. "It's still true, though."

"Holy shit," Jason says, grinning. "Okay, maybe going back won't be so bad, if I get to see that in person."

Tim freezes. "Going back? You're coming with me?"

Jason's face falls a little, but he nods. "I can't let you go back on your own," he says. Tim opens his mouth, but Jason shakes his head. "No. I know you're good, I know you can take care of yourself, but… no." He smiles a little again. "I mean, I went to all this trouble to get you out of there the first time. I'm not letting you go back without being there, too."

Tim smiles a little and stands up, holding his hand out. "I won't let him do anything to you," he promises. "If he tries, I'll stop him. Or I'll break you out when he's not looking."

Jason laughs a little and takes Tim's hand, tugging him in. Tim stumbles and smacks into Jason's chest, which makes him laugh even harder.

"You're okay, Tim," he says, squeezing him quickly before letting go and gesturing to the computer. "I guess you get to let Babs know the good news."

"I guess I do," Tim says, blinking at Jason a few times before sitting back in his chair and waiting for Babs to call back.

-0-

"I really don't want to be here," Jason mutters, stuffing his hands into his jacket's pockets. Tim shoots him a smile, electing not to tell him that it makes him look like a pouting three-year-old.

"I know," he replies. "I'm still glad you decided to come, though."

It's been a week since Babs called them in Houston. She'd been glad to hear that they had decided to return to Gotham, and had agreed to keep the news from Bruce as long as they allowed her to keep an eye on them. Paranoia is how the Bats show their love, Tim knows, so he'd elbowed Jason and agreed. And now, here they are, back in Gotham.

"I'm still not sure this was a good idea," Jason says, looking around. Babs had told Dick the bare bones, enough to assure him that everything was okay and it was in everyone's best interests if he kept Bruce occupied, but Tim can't blame Jason for being nervous. "I mean, I'm really not sure."

"It is," someone says before Tim can get a word out. He and Jason both turn and find Babs grinning at them from a few feet away. "My, how you've grown, Jay."

"Babs," he chokes out. He takes two stumbling steps towards her before halting, an unsure look crossing his face.

"Get over here," Babs orders when he stops, holding her arms out. "It's been way too long since I could give you a hug, kid."

Jason grins and walks to her, bending down and giving her a fierce hug. "It's good to see you," Tim hears him mumble, and he can see the way Babs' arms tighten around Jason's back. He feels a little awkward, seeing this reunion that he clearly has no part in, so he takes a step back and does his best to seem interested in the arrivals and departures board.

"Tim," Babs says a moment later, fond and still somehow exasperated. "Get over here. Hugs for all."

He smiles at her and leans in for his own hug, surprised that it seems just as solid as the one she'd given Jason. "Thank you for bringing him home," she whispers.

"I couldn't just leave him," Tim says stubbornly. "He's family. He's _Jason_."

"Probably should have just left me," Jason advises. He clearly doesn't share Tim's "no eavesdropping" policy. "I've been told I'm trouble."

"And I'm a trouble magnet," Tim shoots back. "We're stuck together now, me and you."

Jason gives him a weird look before smiling at him. "Oh well. I guess I can live with that."

Tim's pretty sure he can too.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! You can find me on tumblr at [somehowunbroken](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com).


End file.
